


Worse than Scars

by Waywocket



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abuse, I used to wonder if this was what it was like before Episode Prompto, Prompto daydreams a lot, Spoilers (We all know what I'm talking about but just encase), The dangers of thinking too much, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywocket/pseuds/Waywocket
Summary: Prompto knows he's different, but are there others like him? It's something Prompto seems to be thinking about a lot lately. Where are the others like him?





	1. Daydreaming Dangers

**Author's Note:**

> So before Ep Prompto I always wondered if there were others that got away and what they would be like. It may have taken up more time in my head than I want to admit :p so I wrote a story of Prompto thinking about it too! I hope you guys like it! This will either be a 2 or 3 chapter story I'm not 100% yet but will know next time. And I'm sorry for not posting as often as I have been. Thank you for all your support guys! As always leave some love and feed back!

Sitting behind the counter at work, Prompto watched as kids poked around. There were a few of them by the video games, half-heartedly arguing about which system was best. He chuckled as he watched another small group at the comics he was sure he heard one squeal finding an early issue. There are a few girls in the back, they mostly look like they’d been dragged in, one kept eyeing a shelf of figures though. Smiling, Prompto waved her down and nodded to the game room they had on the other side of the wall from her. Sure it was mostly used for card games, but there were a lot of figures and other ‘collectables’ for people to play with. 

After a while Prompto was leaning on the counter, flipping through a comic himself. The marvelous heroine was defending herself as a rogue villain tried to steal her powers. A game being tapped against the counter next to him brought him back to reality, closing the book he sat up straighter and smiled to start the transaction. 

It was a simple game purchase, nothing out of the ordinary until Prompto glanced at his right wrist. There on the other’s wrist sat a watch, one that covered as much as his wristband had. It gave him a familiar ache in his chest, but he bit it down and finished the transaction and sent the young man off with a bright smile and wave. Looking to see if anyone was in his part of the store before he slumped back into the chair, pouting at his comic book. They were probably just left-handed is all.

Locking up after himself, Prompto started on his trek back home. With summer in full swing, he was glad he had picked up wearing sleeveless shirts recently. The marks on his arms had faded enough that he had almost enough confidence to show them off. He hoped it would grow as he wore them, but for now, he was grateful to extra skin exposed to what little wind came through this deep into the city. 

Passing by vendors, Prompto tried to ignore his growling stomach. There was food at home, food that he wouldn’t have to do anything more than working out to be rid of. Trying to think of other things, Prompto dug out his camera, looking at the world through his lens. People were passing by at an almost lazy pace at this hour, browsing stalls or groups moving about. It was taking pictures of those groups that Prompto found another one. 

A girl, with her hair dyed purple and piercings lining her ears and face, but that wasn’t what caught his eye. Down her forearms and around her wrists, a rainbow of ribbons looping and weaving around dark skin. They came together around her wrists, wrapped securely around like his own band. Another hopeful ache he tries to swallow down as he walks closer to the group she’s in. Clutching his camera tighter, he thinks of asking her.

Her pointed glance halts all thoughts on the matter. Even if she was like him, whatever he was, she wouldn’t tell him. Would probably hate him for exposing her. Instead, he raised his camera a bit higher, nodding to her arms. With a grin, she posed for him, arms up and giving him the devil horns, but she smiled warmly at him. The camera, he corrected himself. 

Snapping a few shots, her friends had crowded together. For a few short moments, he became their personal photographer. Laughing easily with his temporary friends Prompto gave them suggestions for poses. They fell apart in giggles as they moved from their spy poses, signaling to him they were finished. Laughing still, he offered to show them the pictures he took of them. Scrolling through the feed they got excited again, begging him to send the pictures to them. Quickly exchanging e-mails, he promised next time he went through his camera on his computer he’d send them out.

Finishing his walk home, Prompto began to daydream about others like him. People hiding in plain sight, hiding marks worse than scars. He wonders if they’re kind, or if the fear as made them bitter. Are they as shy as he is, or do they use confidence to hide their flaws? Maybe they found someone to cover up the tattoo and live perfectly normal lives. He hopes, if there are others like him, that they’re all happy.

If he met them, would they feel like family? The thought caught him off guard and he stood still on the pavement outside his house. As much as he wanted to meet them, he never thought about what it could mean. Hiding a secret that deep, they’d feel some kind of connection, right? If they were nice, like the woman with the ribbons, it would be nice, he thought. Prompto shook his head and made his way inside, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t talk to them anyway.

The thought carried with him into the next afternoon as he bought groceries. He knew it had to be a secret, understood why, kind of. He knew that it meant they were from Niflheim, made him the enemy, Noctis enemy, the thought made his stomach twist painfully. It was more than being from an enemy country, getting marked like that had to mean something. It still bothered him that he didn't know what the mark was for, there was something, wrong, with being branded like cattle he thought.

Mind gone, the cashier had to clear his throat to get his attention. With an embarrassed laugh, he nearly dropped his wallet. Quickly pulling out the money for his food, he felt himself stall again. This was new, on the cashier's right wrist was a scar, a large one like a piece of flesh had been removed. As they got him his change, Prompto rubbed his own wrist, over the barcode and the scar underneath. He had tried that once, he could still feel the blade as it buried under his skin. If this man was like him, he was far braver than he was. Taking his change, Prompto gave a quick nod of thanks before running out of the store.

It was hard to ignore that one. What were the chances it was something else, he mused? Better than being the same as him he thought. Hurrying home he couldn’t get the other man’s wrist out of his head. It was hard to think of what else it could be, the scar was jagged, but the placement was perfect.

Once he was safely in his own home, Prompto slipped off the band, staring at the barcode and the scar he left next to it. After everything it had healed up eventually. The scar was raised up from the rest of the skin and framed one side of the mark. It was still an angry red, even over a year later and it was ugly, but it was still the newest scar and that was something to be proud of he thought.

Putting the band back into place he got to work putting the groceries away, wondering how the other managed to pull off the mark. A thought struck him and he stopped lifting the bag of rice to the cupboard, instead he held it against his chest. Did the man make that scar, or was it something else he had been unwillingly given?

Prompto felt his breath quicken and scrambled to find a chair to sit down in. Another thought he hadn’t had yet. What happens when the barcode is discovered? Was he punished for getting caught? Maybe his parents were so sick of seeing it they tore it off him, how old could he have been then? If someone would do that to a child, would someone do worse? Were there more like him, but not all of them grew up?

Mind reeling, Prompto thought about how his parents were never home and never felt luckier that was the only thing they put him through. His parents left him alone, but he’s heard stories about abusive parents, ones that beat their children, kill them. His stomach hurt, he thought he might throw up again. Those were the people that were supposed to love them, what would happen when someone else found out? He knew it would be bad, but he had never thought about what they would do to him. 

Taking a deep breath he held it, trying to calm himself down before he went too far down that road. What ifs weren’t important right now, for now, his secret was safe and no one was going to hurt him. Another breath and he felt a bit better, good enough to finish putting away groceries at least. He could figure out the rest later. Later, it was suddenly a wonderful word, there was a later for him.


	2. Healing Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto can't get the possibilities out of his head and it's taken a toll on him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess it's only 2! Hope that's okay :p I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

It had been nearly a week since Prompto had seen the man with a scar at the grocery store. Nearly a week of feeling every move of his wristband, panic gripping him at every shift. He had taken to resting his hand on his wrist when he sat, trying to give himself some peace of mind. Anything to ease the beating of his heart. Every shift felt like it was slipping away, his secret baring to the light. 

Prompto had even taken to ‘working’ more when Noctis wanted to spend time with him. As much as he wanted to spend time with his best friend, he was afraid. Before, he wanted to find a way to tell Noctis, tell him he wasn’t a traitor. That the ink may be apart of him, but it would never define him, not a piece. Now, he could never risk it.

The more Prompto thought about the mark, wondering how many there could be like him. Were there more like him? His thoughts often drifting to the king. If there were many, wouldn’t King Regis know? That was the thought that sent him on edge, stomach twisting painfully, pulse quickening as he bit back on anger. Why wasn’t he protecting them? If the king knew why was he making them hide alone in the shadows?

Slamming down the box in his hand, Prompto had just enough thought to look around to make sure he was alone in the shop as he put the box on the shelf. Shaking his head, Prompto tried to clear his head. This was the same king that was struggling for justice for his citizens from Galahd and other outlying countries. If he knew there was no way he would leave them like this, he hoped.

Tidying up around the shop Prompto’s mind was still racing, full of so many questions he knew he would never get a proper answer to. He wondered if Noctis knew, they didn’t talk much about their personal lives, something he was grateful for. Noctis avoiding the subject wasn’t impossible he supposed. His silence was as good as acceptance if he knew.

Flopping onto the stool they had behind the counter, Prompto laid down his head and groaned. As more and more questions filtered through his head, he found there was one obvious answer.

“I’m alone,” he whispered to the empty shop. If he was the only one it would fill in all the gaps to his questions. His parents said they didn’t know how he came to Insomnia, there was no way to know if there were others like him. He didn’t even know how he knew he was from Neflhiem, just that he knew it, like breathing. For once, Prompto wasn’t wishing for people to come to the store.

Making his way back home, Prompto tried to let his mind drift to happier thoughts. Of the pictures he had taken a few days ago, he still needed to send those out. Thinking about how much fun those few moments had been, Prompto smiled. They had all had so much fun with him in those few short moments, but the happiness didn’t last long. He remembered her ribbons. Colourful ribbons running down her arms and covering her wrists.

Thoughts of ribbon and what could lay underneath, Prompto lost himself in thought. It was a selfish desire, he knew that. Someone to confide in was something he could only wish for. 

In his longing he didn't see the man round the corner, knocking into his shoulder. Hands reached out securely grabbing his forearms to keep him upright. Stuttering out an apology, Prompto looked at the man’s arms, too embarrassed to look at the man's face.

Ink wrapped around both arms, nearly reaching elbows. Black trees stretched from the ground, up his arms and reaching for the moon and birds that flew across his elbows. It was a beautiful tattoo, but Prompto felt tears prick at his eyes. It was just a tattoo, he knew that, art on someone’s skin. This person wasn’t like him, would probably hate him if he knew. Tears started to roll down his cheeks. 

For all the time Prompto had been left alone, he had never felt his heart ache with loneliness as it did now. Prompto felt a chill through his bones and a hollow feeling in his chest. He wanted this man to be like him, to have someone to confide in.

Sobbing, he tore away from the other man running the short distance left to his house, the empty house. The man called after him, but he lacked the heart to try and listen, needing to get away. The ink under his skin felt like it was poisoning him. Burning and itching under the band, he found himself slipping his fingers underneath the fabric, raking his nails of the skin.

Leaning against the door as soon as he closed it, Prompto let himself slid down. Shoulders shaking he pressed his face against his knees, arms wrapped around himself. He wanted to scream, it wasn’t fair, not a bit of it. It wasn’t his fault he was marked, it didn’t change who he was, why was he being punished for something out of his control? Fingers still under the band, everything stopped when he felt something wet on his fingers.

“No,” he murmured as he bolted upright. Hurrying to the kitchen across the house, he quickly turned on the sink. Pulling off the band, Prompto watch as blood beaded up along the raised scar he had given himself last year. Putting it under the water he nearly screamed, shaking hands fumbling to change the temperature from hot to cold. This time he checked before putting his wrist under to wash away the blood.

Gently washing his new wounds, he scowled at them before he dried the skin. He had been doing so well since that night, but at least these wouldn’t scar. It was something at least, he was getting better.

Getting his first aid kit, Prompto was glad that he had upgraded it, prepared for a lot more than it was before. As he rubbed on the antiseptic his thoughts drifted again, to the people he had seen this week. Being the only one like him was good in a way he thought. The fewer people that had to suffer like he had, the better. Maybe it was a poor thing to be happy about, but it was still something.

Finishing up bandaging himself, he turned his wrist over, admiring his work. Everything would be safely covered by his wristband. Checking the time he gave a small smile. He had enough time to finish his homework before it got too late, leaving his rare Saturday off to do as he pleased.

The next morning the sun shone warmly on Prompto’s face as he said outside the cafe, chocolate tea in hand. His regular barista had suggested it and she was right, it was amazing, and none of the guilt of hot chocolate. Taking another sip, he gave a pleased sigh before getting back to work on his laptop. There were still pictures to send out of course.

Opening up to those pictures he grinned to himself. He had taken more than he had thought and each one was amazing, even the blurry ones. Looking through them, he couldn’t resist the temptation as he began to edit a few of his favorites, just for extra flair.

It was while he was working on the first picture he took, black and white while the ribbons popped to life with colour when a clear wrist came into view. It was a good wrist he thought, strong, perfect. There wasn’t as much as a freckle to mar the smooth pale skin. Giving a longing sigh, Prompto wished he could have such perfect wrists.

“I would have never taken you as a wrist or hand man, Prompto.” Ignis’ voice cut through his thought, causing him to blush brightly. Looking up at Ignis through his lashes, afraid to fully look him in the eye, Prompto tried to stammer out an apology. Ignis smiled and shook his head to wave it off, lifting up his own cup, and his briefcase.

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if I joined you? I have a lot of reports to catch up on and thought the company would be, pleasant.” Perking up, Prompto nodded and cleared a place for Ignis to sit next to him. As soon as Ignis was settled they both set back to work in a comfortable silence. After a while, the silence bled into comfortable chatter as they worked.

As the morning went on, Prompto didn’t feel so alone, even if part of him longed for someone to confide in. In these small moments, Prompto could let himself believe at least for awhile, that he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for going this far guys! I'll get to the rest of it soon I promise!


End file.
